Closeted Caterpillar
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Seriously, Kurt, using a caterpillar in its chrysalis as an analogy for a gay coming out of the closet to be a flamboyant butterfly is taking the "Out" pun a little too far. .:. Kurtofsky friendship. post-junior-year oneshot. T for swearing. pre-slash?


**A/N: Based on a conversation I had with LizzyPoodle. We were discussing butterflies (stemmed off of vacation spots with wildlife) when she asked, "Do you think that, if he were an insect, Kurt would be a butterfly? And I can somewhat see Dave as a caterpillar, I don't know why." And I came up with why, and thus, this little ficlet was spawned after some further discussion. X3**

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><p>"I still don't get why you invited me over," Dave states in an offhand grumble as Kurt answers the front door and Dave steps inside. He kicks off his shoes in the entryway, setting them in a tray of shoes by Kurt's firm demand, and then glances around. "Huh. You have a nice house."<p>

"Carole and I decorated it ourselves immediately after the move. We couldn't stand the boring white walls," Kurt replies with a small smile. He gestures to an open space on the left, saying, "The kitchen is through there. Would you like a refreshment, David?"

"Only you would phrase it like that," Dave murmurs under his breath, and thankfully, the other boy doesn't hear him.

"…Come again?"

"I said, uh, yeah, I guess something to drink would be good. Got any soda?"

"Always. I am quite the diet Coke addict when summer rolls around," the singer replies as he sweeps into the kitchen, and Dave awkwardly paces behind him. "Is that okay with you? Not everyone likes diet soda."

"I could care less, really. It has caffeine and carbonation, and it's wet. That's all I care about," the footballer grunts, shrugging while he self-consciously has his hands in his jean pockets. No letterman today; it's too hot in the summer for it, and it's not like he needs to show off his status off of school grounds.

"Here you are," Kurt says in a light tone as he hands one Coke to his guest, and keeps another for himself. Popping the top delicately, Kurt takes a thoughtful sip. After he swallows, Dave watches over the rim of his own can as Kurt glances down at the hardwood floor for a second, and then lifts his head to smile minutely. "Shall we retire to the living room?"

"I guess," Dave mutters, hating that Kurt caught him staring. He adverts his gaze and is grateful when Kurt pivots on his heel, spinning a perfect one-hundred eighty degrees, and then marching right out of the kitchen and into a carpeted room with couches and a TV.

"So," the singer says mildly as he sits down, legs crossed at the knee, onto an armchair. Setting down his soda can on the coffee table, he gestures for Dave to take the couch so that they may face one another diagonally. "I suppose you're wondering what you're doing here, since I was so vague on the phone."

"Uh, yeah. Some clarification would be awesome, since I really have no idea what you're planning here," David retorts with a hint of a sour mood in his gruff tone. He slurps his soda and sets it down apart from Kurt's.

Kurt adjusts his seating and folds his hands together, setting them atop his knee. "Yes, I apologize for that, but I figured you wouldn't come over if I told you." He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. "Look, David," he begins, freeing a hand to gesture along with his speech, "I realized how uncomfortable you would be with any sort of PFFLAG being set up at school, and I also realized that it might be impossible to conduct because I don't know how Figgins would take it, and while I'm sure Mr. Schue would love to be the faculty director of it, only the Glee Club would ever show up, I'm sure, and since you insist on being a caterpillar in your chrysalis, I have no choice by to conduct my own miniature version of the meetings with you one-on-one."

Dave stands from his seat, and Kurt's eyes calmly follow him. "Wait, hold up a second! You're telling me you invited me over here just to 'educate' me, as you so flatly put it last time? Look, Kurt, I don't need some kind of pity-based 'reach out to the poor, closeted gay kid' act from you, all right? I can handle myself without your little 'meetings.'"

Just as he starts to leave, storming out of the living room, Kurt scrambles up from his chair and darts after the taller boy. "Now wait just a second, David!" he calls out firmly, and grabs hold of the larger boy's shirt. Dave immediately stops in his tracks, freezing up before slowly turning around with an annoyed expression to face the owner of the house.

"_What?_"

Kurt raises his chin defiantly. "This isn't pity-based, Dave. I'm trying to help you, yes, but I also want us to be friends. You need a real friend, someone who knows what's really going on with you."

The footballers looks away, his head shaking lightly. His arms cross over his chest, and his face is in a practiced mask, but his tone of voice gives him away. "You can't mean that. And besides, I have friends." His voice is soft, and almost heartbreaking.

"You have _lies, _David. People who are only buddies you hang out with because you play on a sports team with them. I'm offering something genuine," Kurt answers as gently as he can while he's still a little offended that the other boy would just walk out on him. He forces a teeny smile and touches Dave's bicep lightly. "Come on, Dave. Don't be difficult. Just sit back down, and let's talk. Okay? All I want to do is talk."

"…As long as you don't make me sound like budding fucking caterpillar again," Dave mumbles, following Kurt back to the living room furniture. "Because that was an awful pun or whatever, making it sound like once I come Out, I'll be this flamboyant butterfly like you. 'S not gonna happen."

Kurt smiles, sincerely this time, as he sits down, and watches Dave do the same. "And why not? I'm not saying you have the potential to at all behave like I do – you'll more or less be the same, albeit more comfortable with yourself, hopefully – but it would be nice if you emerged enough to be noticed. People might like you wholly if they know more about you, Dave. I'd know; that's how the Glee Club was for me."

Dave looks away. "Sure, whatever. Like I'm ever gonna find people like that in high school. And really, with my past, no one's gonna care anyway. Not your Glee Club – I've harassed them too much – and not anyone else at McKinley."

"Except for me," Kurt reminds gently, leaning forward a bit. He tilts his head and his eyes grow soft. "You bullied me even worse, but here we are. My father was admittedly heavily reluctant to have you come over this summer while he was away at work and couldn't watch me, but I assured him that Finn would be here, and he bought it."

"…So Hudson isn't here?" Dave asks, glancing around. He seems to fold in on himself, wrapping his arms around himself as if to hide himself.

Kurt witnesses this quick display of insecurity and his heartstring tug a little. "No, he's not," Kurt assures. "I made sure to pick a day and time when he'd be at Rachel's, or out with her in general. No one need to know hat we talk about unless you want them to. I was wrong to push you at Prom; I won't be doing that again."

Dave seems to completely relax, his hands dropping to rest in his lap as he leans back, his body language more open as he sinks into the couch. "Oh, good. So… I can say whatever I want, then?"

Kurt nods. "Of course. It will stay between us. I won't even tell Blaine, like I did by mistake after you…" And he lets the implication speak for itself, because Kurt has learned from previous encounters not to bring up The Kiss to the jock, because it's something that causes him to revert to his defensive self.

Dave shifts. He reaches for his beverage and hides behind it. His eyes don't connect with Kurt's as he asks, "Saw you two together at Prom. You're dating him, right?" And he takes a drink.

Kurt stiffens. "Yes," he says lowly. "But that doesn't matter right now. Don't think about it. Instead, can I bring up something?"

The jock visibly tenses again, fingers a little white around his drink. "Bring up what?"

"…When you were about to leave, you indirectly admitted that you were gay, David. That's a big step, believe it or not."

"All I said was what you would be thinking! I didn't –"

"Dave…" Kurt warns mildly, his eyes peering into what feels like Dave's head.

Dave shrinks back, discarding his soda on the coffee table again. He leans into the couch cushions once more as he runs a cool hand over his hair and blows out excess steam. "Fine. Okay. So maybe I really am… gay," he adds the last word very quietly. Glancing up, he utters sharply, "But that doesn't mean I'm going to run out and date the first guy I meet!"

Kurt frowns. "What, like _me? _You think that's what _I _did?"

"Basically, yes," Dave grumbles.

Kurt's offended, but he takes it in stride. He realizes with a flabbergasted blink that Dave is _jealous. _"Oh. Well… I didn't. I met him, befriended him, came to like him, and then dated him. It was lucky timing, not… not _purposeful. _So calm down, because I'm not saying because you're gay you need to run out and embrace the lifestyle. In fact, what I really want to know is anything you _do _know about the LGBT community."

"The _what _community?" Dave puzzles.

Kurt sighs, smiling a bit. "Apparently not much, then. LGBT stands for Lesbian-Gay-Bisexual-Transgender. It's like a combo-term for everyone relating to homosexuality and the like."

"Oh," Dave returns. He nods minutely. "Okay. Sure. Guess that makes sense. But, uh. I guess the only things I know are what I see floating around the Internet. N-nothing like porn, though," he adds hastily. "I could never –"

"I bet not," Kurt replies understandingly. "I'd expect you would be too fearful to even dare. You wouldn't be caught dead acting on your insecurities like that. Besides, porn is disgusting and embarrassing," Kurt adds in a high voice. He clears his throat. "I think the only time to my knowledge that you acted on it was when –" And again, he cuts himself off.

Dave rolls his eyes. "Look, _Fancy,_" he says, returning to his old ways, "If you want to bring it up so bad – 'cause that's the second time you almost said it – then just do it already. G'head, I dare ya."

"Last time I brought it up directly, you threatened to kill me," the Glee clubber retorts icily.

Dave blinks, and his hazel eyes flicker away. "I… I know. And… I said I was sorry about that," he croaks, and suddenly, Kurt's anger is gone in a flash once again.

"I know," Kurt repeats quietly. He sighs, pressing his hand to his temple. "I'm sorry for saying that." He looks back to Dave, and their eyes meet. "I think… out of all you've done… that's the one thing I can't let go of, David. It's all I really have to go by when it comes to figuring you out. It's the only real sign I had that you we were similar at all."

The jock blinks again, but this time not to hold back any damn tears. Instead, it's out of surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, of course. And honestly, it's not like anyone forgets their first kiss."

"…First?" Dave whispers, and he looks apologetic.

"Yes. The first with a boy, anyway," Kurt answers in a high voice again. He swallows and goes on, "But it doesn't matter. I wanted to talk about you, remember? Tell me anything you know, and ask me anything you want."

"…Anything?" Dave repeats in a continually low voice. He sighs shakily. "Well, uh. I know that there are, like, different types of gays, I guess. I mean, there are the drag queens and stuff, but then apparently there are body types, too? Like… 'bears' and 'twinks' and stuff. Mostly animals, I noticed. 'Otters,' 'cubs.' It's really weird."

Kurt takes a sip of soda and laughs breathlessly. "Yes, there is that. But I dislike labels, so I tend to ignore those stereotypes. Women have them, too. 'Butch,' being the most well-known. It isn't very flattering, not any of it."

Dave grins teasingly. "Why, because you'd be a twink?"

Kurt flushes pink, and his face hardens. He changes the topic around another drink, and sets down his can as he wonders aloud, "What else do you know?"

"No much. Pride parades, gay bars, reform summer-camp-like places that try to turn people straight again. Things like that," Dave answers, oddly comfortable in this moment after making Kurt blush. "I don't really want to be part of that scene, though, not any of it, so I didn't bother to find out much."

The singer's face scrunches up in disgust. "I hate those 'reform' camps. They never truly work unless someone was bi-curious once and decides that they really do prefer the opposite sex after all. They're a big joke, and thankfully, I don't think too many of them are active any longer. But not knowing much about those sorts of things is fine, because they are all optional. What I want to know is: have you ever heard of the Trevor Project?"

"Uh, no? Not exactly. On the YouTube front page once, though, there was this celebrity or another who had a video called 'It Gets Better,' and there was a tag for something with that name on the bottom of it," Dave says, his face thoughtful. "Why, what's it for?"

"It's wonderfully helpful. In fact, I think I'll give you the phone number and let you find out for yourself how incredibly helpful it is," Kurt says, getting up to find a pen and paper.

"You don't have to –"

"I honestly think I need to. Or, rather, _you _need to, David. They –" he yanks open a drawer and withdraws extra lined paper from his leftover school supplies, and fetches a pen from the desk Carole uses for taxes "– helped me the few times when I called. They're good for comfort, and advice, and keeping kids form hurting themselves. And they're best for helping closeted gays," Kurt remarks softly as he writes down the memorized phone number and returns to his seat, handing the paper to Dave. "Please, just try it once. All I ask is for you to spend five minutes on the phone, Dave. It won't kill you to do solely that."

Dave nods and takes the paper, folding it up and slipping it into the front pocket of his pants. "'Kay, fine. I will. But… can I ask you something personal?"

"We couldn't be friends if I didn't," Kurt shrugs. "What's on your mind?"

"…When you called them…" Dave murmurs, "Was it… uh, was it when I was bullying you? Before you left?"

Kurt tenses, and then sighs very slowly through his nose as he stares at Dave intensely, the other boy peering just as intently back. "Yes," Kurt admits solidly. "Once in sophomore year after the Lady Gaga thing –"

"How could I forget that?" Dave snorts.

"– And then two or three times this past year, when it became the worst. First before you kissed me, and then twice afterward, I believe. I needed them, and they were there for me in ways even my father couldn't be, because as supportive and loving as my dad is, he isn't an unbiased outsider on the issue, and he doesn't know that you're gay. So I was vague, saying you were just a kid at school I knew, a bully, and I asked for the same person each time so I didn't have to repeat myself."

"You can do that? Request to talk to the same person after the first call?" Dave asks.

"Yes. It helps keep things straight, and makes you more comfortable. The person I got is named Darcy. She's a sweet girl, and despite what you think, she's straight, but she's reliable because her brother and one of her close cousins are both gay, were both bullied, so she knows how it is. Blaine spoke to the Trevor Project a few times behind his father's back, and always talked to a young male teacher named Alex. All sorts of people work for the Trevor Project; it's voluntary, after all."

"Wow," Dave responds, genuinely in awe. He nods. "Yeah, okay, I'll call them, then. It'd be cool to anonymously talk to someone about this, but I dunno when I'd do it. I… I don't want anyone to hear me."

"Do your parents work?" Kurt offers.

"…Yeah. Both of them. They're divorced, too, do that helps. I see what you're getting at; I'll just call them when I'm alone. That works. And can I use my cell phone? I don't want to pop up on anyone's caller ID," he says.

Kurt nods. "Yes, that's what I did. Do it, David, it'll be good for you. I'm just glad you're open to help."

Dave gives a small, true smile that catches Kurt off-guard. "Heh. Yeah, well. I can't be a dick all the time. And frankly, Kurt, after the Prom incident-thing, I'm tired. I'm starting to give up, and at this point, I figure I shouldn't fight with you on stuff anymore. It does me no good."

"Well, I suppose I'm grateful for that mentality, then," Kurt laughs shortly. He smiles, and leans forward to touch Dave's knee in comfort, and Dave's eyes seems to linger on where Kurt's hand rests. "I'm glad that this is happening, Dave. I didn't like seeing you fight with me when I'm right, but most of all, I didn't like seeing you fight with _yourself._"

The jock looks away, moving his knee out of Kurt's grasp and shifting in his seat. Kurt retracts his hand and blinks, but doesn't question Dave's discomfort. Instead, he renews his smile and stands up, and Dave's eyes move back to Kurt at the shuffling sound.

"I think we've done all you can handle for today. I'll see you to the door, and I'll call you with another time to come over again next week. Does that sound fair?"

"Uh, yeah, totally fair," Dave answers as he joins Kurt on his feet. "…Thanks, by the way," he adds in a mumble as Kurt starts to walk out of the living room.

Kurt stops and glances over his shoulder. He smiles warmly, and Dave's breath hitches in his throat. "You're welcome. I really do want us to the friends, Dave. You're not such a bad guy, you know."

"…I know. But it's only because you're bringing the old me back," he whispers, but Kurt is already turning around and walking toward the door, so he misses all of it.

At the front door, Dave slips back into his tied tennis shoes and awkwardly says goodbye to his new friend.

"So… I'll see you next week?" the jock mutters.

"Yup. You call that number sometime this week, and then call me over the weekend, and we'll talk about how it went, and I'll tell you when to come over again." Kurt smiles. "You'll get through this, Dave. I know it's weird, but I'm here for you through all the weirdness."

Dave laughs a little, partly out of nerves. "Yeah, sure. Thanks again, I guess." And then he leaves; back out into the summer sun and into his stuffy car.

Kurt watches the taller boy for a moment before closing the front door, retreating into the air-conditioned house. He goes into the living room, collects the soda cans from the coffee table – Dave's empty, and his own half-full – and disposes of them accordingly.

Then, with a misplaced sigh, Kurt goes up to his bedroom and recaps their meeting. To himself, he thinks out loud, "I hope all goes well for him. No one deserves to be that unhappy with themselves."

It's a part of their life cycles for pupa to become caterpillars, and caterpillars to form a chrysalis, and for that chrysalis to open and reveal a beautiful butterfly. And while poor David Karofsky is stuck in that chrysalis stage, he's at least _made _the closet and evolved past the caterpillar-in-denial stage, and is readily on his way to becoming a butterfly.

And some secret part of Kurt is sure that once Dave emerges, he will be happier, more complete, and more appealing as possibly boyfriend-material, at least for someone else, if not Kurt himself.


End file.
